


from dusk till dawn.

by aemiliussr



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dissociation, Drabble, Gen, Hargreeves Siblings are Implied, Memories, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, except for one detail, kind of, takes place between the events of season one and season two, yes I'm procrastinating writing my full length fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aemiliussr/pseuds/aemiliussr
Summary: it comes to her in flashes on the worst days.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	from dusk till dawn.

her hands are shaking.

her room is dark. too dark, almost, the only light coming from the oil-painting moon, stark and blinding against the inky blackness of an unpolluted sky. if she focuses, if she separates herself just right, she floats along just above where she sits and watches as shuddering breaths wrack her body, chest heaving, tremor of her fingers fisted tightly into the just this side of itchy cotton t-shirt she wears.

it comes to her in flashes on the worst days; on days where the wind in the trees is too loud and the scratchy audio of the record player in the sitting area leaves her stifling waves of nausea. tonight is no different, it seems, head pounding and pounding against memories she didn’t know she had. it pounds right along with the merciless _bang, bang, bang_ of her remembrance.

_bang._

_again!_ the voice of a man she does not know screams at her, voice hoarse with one too many stern warnings. 

_bang._

her calloused fingers hold tighter still onto the fabric, nails scraping unpleasantly on the hem of the sleeve, sensation cutting through the fog in her mind and the shouting in her ears and glow of moonlight.

_bang._

the moon, splitting apart, great fiery splinters of massive rock careening straight towards her, out of control, she’s all out of control, and-

_bang._

her ears are ringing, now, though it’s hard to tell through the black spots that dance through her mind and eyes, blocking her own body from view.

_bang._

there’s a violin and someone screaming, sick melody carrying the lyrics of _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,_ twisting through her ears, wracking her lungs and body and seeping into the corners of her body.

_bang._

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the air, finally rejoining her body, slipping back into being and clenching her fingers tighter just to remember the feeling.

_Bang._

_you should be,_ a voice in her head tells her, a voice she would recognise in another life, another future, and she finds herself agreeing past the mantra of _why, why, why_ in her mind.


End file.
